No Paychecks . . . No Prospects . . . Always How one writer struggles to elevate from the hammock, overcome his God-given laziness and earn a living in a cruel world that insists he work.

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Tweets of the Month

I’m at 8days2Amish. Follow! Like! Share! Love! And stay the heck out of the passing lane …

• For the sake of metaphorical irony, it'd be neat if old wives grew actual tails.

• I used to think they were called the wee-wee hours because they were the clock's smallest numbers. As I age I'm becoming convinced they're called the wee-wee hours because it's when many adults get out of bed to wee-wee.

• I wonder if warrior Indians were bummed when they went to scalp a warring paleface and found him to be, dang, bald.

• I’d like to see a boy named Morley engage a girl name Leslie and have them conceive a child they'll name Equally.

• I’ll bet there are many days each week when Dick Cheney wakes up and is stunned to realize he's no longer President of the United States.

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"Last Baby Boomer!"

About Me

I'm the Latrobe, Pa., based author of "The Last Baby Boomer: The Story of the Ultimate Ghoul Pool," and "Use All The Crayons! The Colorful Guide to Simple Human Happiness." I'll write for anybody who'll pay me. I am a PROSEtitute